


All My Hope

by Random_Fandom_writer



Category: Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Angst, Canon Compliant, For the most part, He's still Connor and everything, M/M, Pining Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Sad Ending, Soft Connor Murphy (Dear Evan Hansen), Suicide, Suicide Notes, and pining, connor is depressed, he just has a lot of feelings about a certain blond, kind of
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-06
Updated: 2019-08-06
Packaged: 2020-08-10 03:44:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,089
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20128807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Random_Fandom_writer/pseuds/Random_Fandom_writer
Summary: Connor was tired.Not the traditional sense of tired, no he gets plenty of sleep. To much probably.But he was tired.He was sick of feeling tired.Or...All the events leading up to Connors suicide from his point of view.





	All My Hope

**Author's Note:**

> Hey look at me, doing something kinda sorta close to canon. 
> 
> There are a lot of fics like this, and know that I am not trying to plagiarize them, I just wanted to do my take on how this would all go. Please don't beat me with a stick.
> 
> Trigger Warnings: Discussion of drug use, anxiety, depression, suicide

Connor was tired.

Not the traditional sense of tired, no he gets plenty of sleep. To much probably.

But he was tired.

The type of tired that surrounds you like a black cloud, and hides in the dullness of your eyes. It slips between your joints and seeps into your bones, weighing your entire body _downdowndown_ until you eventually melt and become one with the floor tiles. The tired that lays heavy in your heart and stomach, preventing you from eating, or drinking or even fucking brushing your teeth because _'apparently I can't even do that right.' _

Smoking helped at first. It made him feel... Good? No, more like something. It made him feel something. A false sense of happiness maybe.

And then it didn't, because eventually even that had to stop working. He still smoked though, mostly out of spite, partly because it was something to do. Something that used to make him feel. Maybe if he keeps it up, that feeling would come back.

It never does. It always ends up with him feeling worse nowadays.

He was sick of feeling tired.

* * *

September 4th, the first day of school.

It also happens to be Connor's last day.

And it's off to a _great _start.

***

"Hey, Connor. I'm loving the new hair length. Very school shooter chic."

A beat.

"I was kidding. It was a joke."

"Yeah, no, it was funny. I'm laughing. Can't you tell? Am I not laughing hard enough for you?"

"You're such a freak."

_Freakfreakfreakfreakfreakfreak_

_***_

He didn't mean to push him, which is probably the first and last time that thought will ever cross his mind.

Because Evan is sweet, and stuttery, and likes _trees _for Gods sake. '_How fucking adorable is that?'_

He needs to fix it, because how is he supposed to die in peace knowing that he just abused the human equivalent of a puppy. 

* * *

"So. What happened to your arm?"

The blond spun around, anxiety etching his features. If it were anyone else Connor would have been offended, but not with Evan. After many weeks of studying him, he concluded that his face always looked like that.

"Oh, I um, I fell out of a tree actually." He turned his gaze to the white cast branded on his arm, picking at the already peeling plaster.

Despite the lack of humor, Connor found himself laughing. "You fell out of a tree?" A nod. "That is just the saddest fucking thing I've ever heard. Oh my God." The other boy forced a meek laugh and a small _"yeah I know right? "_ causing Connor to _immediately _regret every decision he's made in his entire life. _'Dammit dammit dammitdammitdammit, change the subject.'_

"No one's signed your cast." Evan flinched, looking down at the plain white plaster. _'Wrong. Bad. Fuck, I'm horrible at this."_

"No, I know."

Connor has never wanted to hug somebody so badly.

The words are out of his mouth before he can process them. "I'll sign it."

"Oh, um... You don't have to."

And he almost doesn't. He almost bites something along the lines of _'you could have just told me to fuck off if you didn't want me here.'_ Because it's _obvious_ that Evan wouldn't want his name on that thing. He's the school shooter after all.

But he _doesn't _do that_. _Because this is Evan Hansen, and Evan Hansen can't talk to the drywall without stuttering. So he didn't mean it like that, no matter how much his brain screams at him to just give up at this pathetic attempt of a conversation.

He chooses to ignore him completely. "Do you have a sharpie?" He smirks as Evan pulls one from his back pocket, as if he's been waiting for this very moment all day.

***

Connor thinks that this is the exact moment in which he would like to die. Because he drew the fucking C to big, and now he has no choice but to compensate by making the rest of the letters _just as big._

Fucking fuck. 

The outcome is **CONNOR**, displayed right across the front of his cast in bold, black letters for all the world to see.

"Oh. Great. Thanks." He can tell by the look on his face Evan's not the happiest with it either, but that's ok. He doesn't get mad for once. Connor would feel the same way. 

"Yeah well, now we can both pretend we have friends." '_Haha. Funny joke Connor. Really hilarious to point out how friendless he is. That'll charm him.'_

"Good point." 

His heart shatters into a million pieces. Because Evan looks so _broken, _and Connor recognizes that defeated look in his eyes.

He's about to leave when he remembers his whole excuse for being here and talking to him. "Is this yours? I found it on the printer. 'Dear Evan Hansen.' That's your name right?" He says it like he doesn't already know.

His breath hitches, and he looks as if he wants to desperately snatch it out of his hands and bolt. "Oh that's just a stupid- it's a paper I had to write for a um, for an assignment."

Well that sure sounds suspicious, and now he wants to read it. So he does. He scans the piece of paper, eyes coming to a halt at one word.

_'Zoe.'_

"Because there's Zoe." He glances up at Evan, whos eyes are trained at his shoes. "Is this about my sister?"

And suddenly a spark ignites his entire body because...

Because it's not his name.

He's saying something now. He doesn't really know what, he never does, because his ears get all muddy and cloudy and now he's yelling at Evan as he watches tears gather in the others eyes and-

_"Fuck you."_

He storms out with the letter in hand.

* * *

That was a very _silly _thing to do. Very silly indeed, because now Connor is reading the entire letter. Once, twice, three times. Again and again and again, anything to trick his eyes to stop seeing what he's seeing.

This can't be right.

Evan's not supposed to feel like that, Evan doesn't _deserve_ to feel like that. Evan is supposed to be happy, and good. Albeit a little anxious, but overall good. He wasn't supposed to be...

He wasn't supposed to be like him.

It's crazy how amazingly Evan was able to describe everything he's been feeling though. Quite extraordinary. I mean, the letter says it all. (Even if the point on Zoe is a _little _different for their respective situations.)

...The letter says it all.

**Author's Note:**

> ...And you guys know what happens next.
> 
> Y'all should check out my other fics. You should also know that I only feel slightly shameful for the self promotion.
> 
> Also, forgive me if the first day of school date is off. I'm not American, and although I did look it up, I wasn't given a straight answer because apparently it's different in every state. Wack.


End file.
